“That would be great, thanks,” I said quietly, not wanting Eddie to get the impression I was soliciting a client for networking connections.
Eddie told me to expense the Uber. As the driver cut across midtown to the West Side Highway, I rolled down the window and felt the rush of the Hudson River to my right and the energy of all of Manhattan to my left.
I groaned when my alarm went off at 6:30 the next morning to meet Emilie and Connor for hot yoga at Y7.
I stretched in the dark while I waited for Emilie and Connor to find the two mats I’d laid out next to me. My mind was still shuffling through possible reasons Ben might’ve reached out.
He definitely wasn’t ready to move on.
Was he still writing a book?
I imagined Ben turning into a bestselling author with a combination tell-all, self-help masterpiece on surviving your ex-wife’s emotional immaturity.
I moved to Savasana and squeezed my eyes shut.
I felt a rush of cold air as Emilie raced in and crouched on the mat next to me. “He brought that girl,” she whispered between clenched teeth.
“What girl?”
“The one he took to Barry’s.”
I looked over and saw a petite Zoë Kravitz look-alike trailing behind Connor, carrying two yoga mats.
“Morning, ladies. This is Gillian,” Connor announced loudly as the instructor signaled for us to keep it down. We politely waved in unison as I breathed in deeply, trying to meditate away Emilie’s agitation and my own mental spiral about responding to Ben.
Part of me wanted to tell Emilie, and the other part knew what she’d say. Of course it wasn’t a good idea to see him. I couldn’t have my cake and eat it too. I could either be here in this new life, chasing my dreams, or back in DC married to Ben, about to start a family—but not both. I had chosen to start a new life and needed to see that decision through. Dinner would only make things messier.
I showered at the yoga studio, dried my hair, and walked toward the 1 train. As I reached for my MetroCard, a new text lit up my screen—Ben, asking if I was free for dinner on Wednesday.
Without giving myself time to hesitate, I replied that Wednesday worked and offered to make a reservation in a convenient neighborhood.
I chucked my phone into my Longchamp, debating if the yoga-induced adrenaline was making me decisive or shortsighted.
An hour later, I dropped my bags in the office and went to make coffee in the kitchenette. Charlie was at his desk by the time I got back.
“All right, I need the download. Does she take her steak rare? Is she a vampire? Does Eddie Kaufman hate California wine as much as you do?”
I took a slow sip of coffee. “I was introduced to a fine tequila and learned that Eddie has a thing for French red wine. And Istillmade it to yoga this morning. But I need more coffee before you pepper me with any more questions.”
Charlie laughed. “‘Pepper’ you? No one told me I was sharing an office with my grandma in Florida.”
As he launched into another question, Patricia’s name appeared on the caller ID.
“Hi, Patricia,” I responded, working to keep my voice steady. Every nerve felt exposed as I waited to find out if Eddie had read the memo.
She relayed that he was heading to the airport at the last minute and didn’t have time to call, but he’d read the memo, and it was clear there were two key people who would be critical to building Andie’s defense. We needed to interview them as soon as possible. Both were in LA, so he wanted Patricia to book me a flight out Thursday morning. He would be coming from a deposition in San Francisco. Patricia assumed that would work with my schedule.
“Yes, of course,” I responded immediately. I wondered if she could tell from my voice how relieved I was. He had read itandwanted me to come to LA for the interviews. I felt a wave of pride for the work I’d put in, both in terms of the legal research and applying the facts we’d gotten from Andie to the research.Maybe I can actually do this,I thought. I was starting to feel like a lawyer.
“I assume he’ll email you with more details when he has a second to breathe,” she said, and she hung up.
Ten minutes later, I was booked business class on an 8 a.m. flight to LAX on Thursday, returning Friday evening. Eddie was copied onthe itinerary. Within minutes, he responded that I should plan to get him draft interview outlines by midweek.
Not even two minutes later, he replied to his earlier email, this time copying Leo Hirschman, a partner from the firm’s LA office.
Leo, meet Samantha, one of my new associates. She’ll be in Los Angeles next week and I think you two should connect while she’s there. She wants to do entertainment (I tried to convince her otherwise).
I jumped up from my desk. “Oh mygod. Charlie—Eddie just sent an email to Leo Hirschman saying we should meet when I’m in LA next week.”
